


Made For Each Other

by Sherlolly_Sweetness



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Detective Holmes, F/M, Fluff and Crack, MarjoryHooper, Romantic Comedy, Sherlocksawkwardness, Sherlolly - Freeform, Shipper Anderson, TheWI, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlolly_Sweetness/pseuds/Sherlolly_Sweetness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Molly Hooper end up like this? It was all Sherlock Holmes blooming fault!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

With little concern for her image Molly Hooper bustled her way through the front door of 221B Baker Street. Stomping up the stairs she battled with her blasted coat, why on earth do they get so restrictive? If she wanted a straitjacket, they she would have brought one! Where would one buy a strait jacket anyway? I doubt you could just pop down the street... shaking her head Molly inhaled, stood up straight and focused. Feeling quite proud of herself she flung open the door to the upstairs flat, only to be met by what could be considered, quite the domestic scene.  
"Checkmate. John this 'game' is quite tedious, I always win, why do I always win?"

"Well it would help if you..."

"Ahh, Dr Hooper perhaps someone of your slightly higher intellect"

"Hey!" John adamantly protested, but was met by the sight of Sherlock's back.

"Perhaps you could challenge me?"

"Well actually I came to..."Molly trailed off, but was met with little acknowledgement. Sherlock made sounds of dismissal before slumping back down in his chair.

"Then again, perhaps not..." Steepling his fingers under his chin, silence echoed.

Molly composed herself once more, and tried to begin again.  
"Well as I was saying, I came to... Sherlock! Sherlock Holmes, are you even listening to me?"

"Oh don't worry about him, gone to his mind palace, I expect. Still cup of tea Molly?" John intervened.

"Oh well I really should, no I will, thank you John. Yes I don't mind if I do"

Once the tea had been prepared, and Molly and John were comfortably seated, conversation once again returns to the reason behind Molly's visit.  
"Sorry Molly, I didn't quite catch why you said you're here?"

"Too much apologising John, you sound repetitive, it’s only Molly"

John loudly cleared his throat, pointedly looking at Sherlock.  
"Not good?"

John shook his head, "No Sherlock, not good."

Molly started again, "Actually I came to ask Sherlock. What I'm trying to say is, I need a divorce!" Molly looked up, proud of her self. John spat his tea everywhere.

"No" Sherlock uttered "No, end of subject, next."  
John coughing quietly recovered himself but was confused.

"I may be missing something here, but don't you have to be, you know, married, to get divorced?"

"Once again, thank you John for your helpful insight." Sherlock sarcastically commented.

"Wait, you two are... married?" John's face looked as white as a sheet.

"How long?"

"10 years" Molly stated, "It happened the first year we met, Sherlock needed a fake wife, for a case. It was purely platonic. But what I don't understand is why, why he won't give me a divorce now!"

Slowly Sherlock rose from his chair, and crouched in front of the adamant Molly.  
"Now why would I want to do that? Hmm?"

Molly shot up in fury.  
"Why, you self-centred, egoistical, snobbish, arse! How very well dare you? No don't you dare look so a fronted at me. Sherlock Holmes stop it!"  
With every comment Molly was stabbing her finger into Sherlock's chest.

"Shut up" Sherlock mumbled, as his lips came crashing down onto Molly's, silencing her angry cries. It took a few minutes before Molly mellowed, and sunk into the kiss, holding Sherlock. The two lovers were oblivious to their audience.

"Shall I just, I think I'll..." John awkwardly made his way out of the flat, feeling the urge to rub his eyes, in an attempt to wake up from this peculiar dream.

"Well I never, those two, married!" Reflecting on what had just happened a small smile graced the army doctor's lips, as he meandered down the busy London streets.

"Made for each other" he proclaimed, "Made for each other".


	2. 10 Years Prior

The tall figure of Sherlock Holmes ran barging through crowds of people with little regard for society's values on politeness. They were secondary niggling annoyances. Sherlock Holmes had a case.

The case, which in the future would always be known as THE case involved a duke, duchess and their horrendous daughter. That girl, Sherlock refused to acknowledge her as a woman she was far too immature for that, disgusted him. Constant attempts at seduction appeared to be her single aim in life. Unfortunately for Sherlock the object of her attentions was him.

That was how he found himself barging through crowds trying to escape the hysterical female chasing him, shrieking out professions of love.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molly Hooper, unbuttoning her coat and absentmindedly tidying up lab equipment, was exhausted. It had been a long day, you know the kind that tiers you in your bones. Not only had everything that could possibly go wrong gone wrong, but to top it all off she had just received a phone call from her mother –

“Oh I’m just calling to let you know dear, that I’m going to be popping around and I might stay for a while.” 

Molly adored her mother, just in small doses. She was as you could say, difficult. Day one was fine, enjoyable even but day two it started. 

“Molly dear how is your love life?” “Molly when are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” 

Unfortunately for Molly her mother was adamant that Sherlock Holmes was her secret boyfriend, despite Molly’s constant explanations that they were merely friendly co-workers. It appears that this time was to be no different.  
Putting on her rain coat – it is England after all; Molly flicked off the lights and exited the morgue. On her way out she bumped into Mike Stamford, they briefly exchanged pleasantries and Molly scuttled off, out of the hospital and into the busy streets of London. Pausing Molly breathed in, deeply inhaling the London air, blissful after being cooped up in the morgue all day. Just as she was about to set off for home, she was promptly knocked to the ground by the whirlwind that was Sherlock Holmes.


	3. Chapter 3

Clutching on to the arm of her assaulter, Molly Hooper righted herself. The face of Sherlock Holmes consulting detective extraordinaire loomed ominously close.

“Sherlock what’s…?” Molly began to question, after noticing the peculiar glint in his eye.

“Just go with me alright, I’ll explain later.” 

Was the urgently uttered response Molly received. Then Sherlock Holmes kissed her. Her! Molly Hooper, mousey pathologist and Sherlock Holmes, it was like a movie. Unfortunately it was interrupted by the quick succession of camera flashes. Molly broke the kiss amidst all the confusion, only to be pulled to the road by their entwined hands, as he promptly flagged down a cab. Pulling her inside he announced 221B Baker Street.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock Holmes breathed a deep sigh of relief, this could not continue, being chased down the street by a hysterical woman was not in his resume. Glancing over to the left Molly appeared to be numb, silently staring into space. Sherlock smirked; he was evidently just that good at kissing. Suddenly Molly’s face was in her hands as she silently wept, hiccupping every so often. Sherlock wasn’t good with emotions; uncertainly he placed his hand on her back, in an attempt at conveying comfort.

Molly looked up “What was that?” she demanded.

Smugly Sherlock recounted his plan “A brilliant idea if I do say so myself. I was being chased by a hysterical woman who fancies herself in love with me, and then you were there. Then it struck me, how convenient the perfect cover!” Sherlock trailed off as the cab pulled into Baker Street.

“Convenient. I was convenient” Molly retorted furious. It began to dawn on Sherlock that he had said wrong. Hurriedly he tried to back track.

“No, well yes but I mean in a good way… It was a perfectly acceptable kiss.”

“Acceptable” Molly’s voice rose into a screech and she looked to be on the verge of slapping him. Sherlock didn’t fancy being slapped, it was unnecessary, and it hurt!

“Above average?”

“Above… oh just get out. You have no idea what you’ve done.” By this point the cabbie was furiously coughing as he tried to curb the laughter that was threatening to break forth. Molly Hooper was using all of her body weight to push Sherlock out of the cab. She succeeded.

As Sherlock picked himself off the floor and turned around the cab door had been slammed shut and was promptly speeding off down the street. “Women” he sighed “Outrageously emotional creatures, I’ll never understand them…” He shook his head before examining the front door of 221 Baker Street; he was to meet his newest potential landlady Mrs Hudson.

Molly Hooper sighed with relief as the taxi pulled away from Baker Street leaving Sherlock Holmes behind in its wake, sometimes he could be so completely clueless towards anything involving feelings or emotion. The nerve of that man outstanded her, how dare he kiss her like that, and in front of all those people as well.

All those people, oh no!  
Sherlock Holmes = Famous.  
Famous = Paparazzi.  
Paparazzi = magazines/newspapers.  
Magazines/newspapers meant, her mother!

Her mother who was under the impression they were dating. What on earth was she to do now? Molly collected her things and prepared herself as the taxi arrived outside her block of flats. Smiling what she hoped appeared a genuine and grateful smile Molly paid the driver and struggled her way up the stairs, bloomin' lifts didn't work did they? Upon reaching her door she located her key, opened the door, threw her bags on the sofa and was met by a ginger ball of fluff that went by the name Toby.

Oh, Toby god bless him was the best friend Molly could hope for, only just last week had she gone to a shelter for abandoned or lost cats with her friend, intending to help her make a choice and get out of there. Unfortunately Toby took one look at her and decided that she was to be his next owner, they appeared attached at the hip. Consequently Molly was the one who left with a cat that day and no her friend after all.

Returning back to the situation with Sherlock Molly made the executive decision that alcohol was most definitely required. Finding the bottle at the back of the cupboard, it was only for emergencies... honest, she poured a glass of red wine sank back into the sofa, sipped occasionally and began to ponder her situation. Suddenly her phone lit up with a message.

Mum:  
Molly you and Sherlock are adorable, I must admit I had my doubts, why did you keep denying it? Just tell me, I'm so proud of you, I've shown all my friends!  
[Image of them kissing attached]

Molly had to admit the picture of them did look lovely, if only it were real... No best not to get into that train of thought again. Dear old mum had shown all her friends, oh no, this meant they would have them as getting married by the end of the month! What was she to do? Would she have to introduce Sherlock and her mother, oh god that would be a disaster! Suddenly the doorbell went. Molly heaved herself up off the sofa; she was slightly tipsy after all and made her way to the door. Molly straightened up the best she could in her current state, pulled open the door and grimaced. This was the last thing she needed.

As Molly pulled open the door she was met by the sight of a figure she never expected, her brother. Molly and her brother used to be as thick as thieves until he met his now wife Linda.  
“Andrew what are you doing here?” There was slight disturbance as a small feminine face peeked around his leg “Layla, is that you? Gosh, how you’ve grown, come here let me see you” Molly cooed as the small girl unwound her hand from her fathers and came closer to her beloved aunt. Almost instantly the pair was embraced in a tight hug. Molly’s niece had been born almost four years ago now; the last time she’d seen her had been two years ago at her birthday party. Layla and Molly got on like a house on fire; they were the best of friends, unfortunately though after the last time Molly’s visits were, restricted at best. Last time Molly visited she’d had enough Linda was the rudest woman she had ever had the misfortune to meet. 

Constantly she would subtly leave degrading hints about Molly’s lack of a love life, how she disapproved of her career choice and Molly had enough! So she stood up to her, confronted her at the dinner table. Admittedly she probably could’ve chosen a better time or phrased her accusations politer but hey that’s life. Andrew being the socially inept person he is failed to understand, which resulted in Linda being furious with both of them. Molly was banned from the house and seeing her niece.

“Does Linda know you’re here?” Standing up Molly addressed her brother.

“No, she’s gone away for the weekend, but Molls, you’re my sister and I miss you”

“I miss you too Drew” Molly smiled; her brother could be adorable some times.

“Plus I want to know why there is a picture of some bloke kissing my sister in the paper! What have you gotten into this time Molly Hooper?” 

Molly blushed, grinning slightly as she recalled today’s earlier events. Then something occurred to her…  
“Did Mum put you up to this?”

“She may have pointed it in my direction, but no one should be kissing my sister unless you’re married; even then, not without my consent.”  
Pausing to collect herself and inhaling deeply Molly shook her head in disbelief.

“I’m 25, no one has the right to control my life, and I’m not 12 anymore!”

“Couldn’t have said that better myself.” A deep baritone reverberated through the room.

The figure of Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, “Hello Andrew…”


	4. Chapter 4

Molly looked between the two in shock, and promptly fainted. Next thing she knew she was waking up on top of the covers on her bed with her brothers face peering at hers. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, thank goodness for small blessings.

“Auntie you should’ve told daddy if you were that tired, he would’ve let you take a nap!”

Molly smiled at her innocent niece “I’ll do that next time Layla, promise”

The little girl smiled and skipped off to the living room to play with one of her toys.

“Molls are you alright? You haven’t fainted like that since you were 10 and you fell over, knocking yourself unconscious. I remember that day, Mum was terrified and Dad, calm as anything, rung for an ambulance…”

At the mention of their late father the siblings both became silent as they recalled the happier times, suddenly their eyes met and both broke started to laugh.

“I’ll be alright Drew; it was just a shock that’s all. Don’t worry.” Molly stood up and made her way into the living room where Layla was playing with a puzzle of a horse. Molly moved closer and examined the puzzle, not only was it a horse but an extremely well-drawn anatomically correct horse. There’s no why her brother could afford this.

“Layla, is this new? Where did you get this puzzle from? The horse is very pretty.”  
Sitting cross legged next to the little girl Molly looked earnestly into her eyes. Before Layla replied in an innocent and yet strangely knowledgeable voice.

“Uncle Sherlock gave it to me” Smiling she went back to her puzzle.  
Startled Molly leaned back and glanced to Andrew, who mouthed ‘Uncle?’ at her.

“Sweetie, why did you call him uncle?”

“Silly auntie, he used a key to get into you house, he caught you when you went to sleep, and u kissed him on the mouth, I saw the picture! Only mummies and daddies do that to each other, and their married. So that means you are too. Besides, he didn’t say I was wrong!”

Astonished at the logic of her response Molly could not find it in her heart to contradict the little girl. Just as the connection begun to link together in her mind something else occurred to Molly.  
“Drew, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?” Leaving no time for him to protest Molly grabbed her brother’s hand and pulled him in her small kitchen, shutting the door.

“What exactly did Sherlock say to you?” Andrew looked up puzzled.

“Nothing much really, but then again I was distracted, my sister did just pass out in front of me.” Molly glared at him. 

“Well I mean he muttered something about low blood sugar, not enough blood flow in the head picked you up and took you into your room. To be honest, he didn’t say much to me at all, he spoke more to Layla! Let me think… ah yes, he knelt down in front of her; I remember thinking what on earths going on? Then he told her you were sleepy, and not to disturb you. He told her to be brave, gave her the present, nodded at me and left.”

Shaking her head in amazement, Molly made a note to herself to ask Sherlock what the heck was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

That night the Hooper family, all bar one that is, slept peacefully in their beds. No, there was to be no peaceful rest for Molly that night her mind was racing. Why on earth had Sherlock turned up? More importantly though, why was he being so nice? Sherlock and nice were two things not normally associated with one another. Genius, yes, perhaps even hansom, but nice... That was a new one!  
Most importantly of all though was the impending visit from her mother. With that troubling thought and as big Ben rung out for midnight Molly finally drifted off into a restless sleep.  
_____________________________________________________

On the other side of London another figure lay awake. He had received the most troubling news earlier that day; Molly's mother was coming to visit. A brother and niece he could deal with, he actually quite liked children they had no pesky unspoken rules to live by as most adults did but not that he'd admit that to anyone, parents on the other hand were a whole other kettle of fish. They tended to get frightfully... Emotional.  
Sherlock shuddered, how vulgar! Despite this awful news the worst was not the news its self, but who he had to hear it from... Mycroft. He even had the audacity to laugh and wish him luck with his future in laws. Bastard!

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Molly Hooper began to awaken from dreamland she shot up out of bed, a hideous thought had occurred to her. Today was the day of her impending mother’s arrival. Molly groaned, she really did not need this now, what with Sherlock acting bizarre and the fact that she had gotten little to next to no sleep last night was not helping matters.  
Sighing sleepily she made her way to her little kitchen poured herself a much needed mug of tea, yes a mug, it was one of those mornings! Before consuming a sizeable bowl of cereal. Andrew and Layla had left quietly earlier that morning, leaving a note explaining that they loved her but Linda was coming home early so they had to leave pronto.

The doorbell rang out its cheerful melody; Molly who was still asleep clutched her head and muttered under her breath "go away!” The person on the other side did not; instead they did something unexpected and began to unlock her door with a key. There were only three people who possessed a key to her flat, herself, Andrew and Sherlock.  
Dear God please let her daft brother have forgotten something, and since her key was in her coat pocket it most certainly was not hers. A tall suit clad leg appeared before the tell-tale corner of one of the most famous Belstaff coats in London, Sherlock Holmes was here.

Molly stood up, and clutched her dressing gown tightly around her pyjamas.  
"What do you want Sherlock? Now is not a good time"

Sherlock pulled the door closed, removed his coat hung it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs and promptly sat down, helping himself to her mug of tea.  
"Mm Molly you always do make the best tea." Sherlock sighed contently and leaned back against her chair. Molly gave him a pointed look.

"Oh yes, what do I want? Just thought I'd pop by, visit a..." Sherlock screwed up his nose "...friend?" Molly crossed her arms.

"At Seven Thirty in the morning. Try again..."

"OK fine, I came to apologise for my behaviour the other day, and see if you were alright after your brief fainting spell. A touch over dramatic don't you think, I was unaware that I warranted such a reaction!"

Molly shook her head in disbelief, and made a note to herself to thank Mycroft the next time she heard from him.  
"Well as you can see I'm quite alright now, not to be rude but I'm going to take a shower" Weaving her way through her furniture into her living room, Molly called out over her shoulder "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Came the simple response.

"If someone isn't answering their door, they are either not in, or don't want to talk to you. Remember that next time."

Under the hot jet of the shower Molly finally began to relax. Sherlock apologising just didn't happen something must be up; he had an ulterior motive of some sort. Rinsing out her hair Molly stepped out of the shower and into a large fluffy towel.  
Sherlock barged into the bathroom causing Molly to squeal.

"Okay, this is too far, Sherlock we need..." Sherlock covered molly's mouth with one hand muffling her protesting, and with the other played with her other, before muttering  
"Your mother's here" and swiftly leaving the room.

In a rush Molly put the odd encounter to the back of her mind and bundled herself into her clothes, brushing her teeth in record time. Taking a deep breath she straightened up and gingerly entered the living room. Her mother and Sherlock had been left alone in the same room together goodness knows what had happened.  
To her immense surprise they were both enjoying a cup of tea together civilly, what foreign universe had she just entered? Her mother shot up and pulled her into a large hug.

"Mum, mum can't breathe"

"Oh sorry dear" she exclaimed and retook her seat "Sherlock and I were just discussing your upcoming nuptials" Molly turned to glare at Sherlock, what nuptials?

"Let's see it then" her mother grabbed Molly's hand, only then did she remember the scene in the bathroom and looked down. Holy crow, there upon her engagement finger sat a ring adorned with the largest diamond she had ever seen; around it were nestled rubies and emeralds.

"Molly dear why did you not tell me you two were to be married? Oh and I told Jenifer you were merely dating"  
Alarmed Molly looked up wide eyed into the smugly grinning face of one very pleased with himself Sherlock Holmes. 

"SHERLOCK...!"


	6. Chapter 6

Molly Hooper had to sit down, leaning heavily on her hand she sighed deeply, she did not get paid enough for this. Glancing up she met the confused gaze of one her mother and bloody Sherlock Holmes, why did this always happen to her? Gathering herself together and sorting out her appearance Molly spoke up:

"Mum please may I have a moment alone with Sherlock?"  
Glancing back and forth between the two Mrs Hooper silently left, her gaze saying all that needed to be said. Rising up Molly began to pace.

"You know you shouldn't do that, it will wear holes in your carpet and statistically the chance of..."  
"Shut up, Sherlock! Just stop. Answer me this, what the hell were you thinking?"

Sherlock's puzzled look enraged Molly even more, "...its for a case, with my profession, you should know I often have to adopt an alias, and with that alias a family and back story. You are a woman and I am in need of a wife"

Molly's eyebrows rose in disbelief, "You expect me to just go along with it all? Well not any more Sherlock, you win... But I cannot be your wife" raising her hand Molly delicately twisted the ring off her petite finger, and after giving it one final glance of admiration, placed it on the arm of Sherlock's chair.  
"Good luck Sherlock, really I wish you all the best, go out there and solve this case prove everyone wrong! However I will not be involved, not again you know what happened last time."

Smiling sadly Molly walked back to her bedroom, shut the door, and sunk to the floor. Absentmindedly she heard two hushed tones before the two sets of footsteps made their way out of the flat and out on to the street below. Unable to contain herself for much longer Molly broke down into gut wrenching sobs, where she remained for most of the night.  
Meanwhile the sole figure of Sherlock Holmes walked in silence, there was not a soul to be seen, thinking back on what just transpired exhausted him, females were such outrageously emotional creatures. Some though, were worth the effort, Molly Hooper being one of them. If Sherlock could see his own face right now he would undoubtedly have been startled, for upon his lips was the smallest hint of a smile. If he were to truly admit it, he was a little bit proud of Miss Hooper, it took great deal of courage to stand up to him, and she had it in bucket loads. Of course there could not have been less appropriate timing, what was he to do now?

Sherlock's phone vibrated:  
Trouble in paradise brother?  
-MH  
Of course not, merely a change of plans.  
-SH  
Oh am I not to send my congratulations? Mummy was so pleased when I told her.  
-MH

Sherlock cursed, bloody Mycroft always meddling. Now there was nothing for it, can't upset mummy, Sherlock would have to resort to plan B, operation win back Molly is ago. Not to be outdone Sherlock had one last retort:

On the contrary Mycroft, Mummy should be delighted, at least one of her sons is finally doing some thing 'worthwhile', do inform her that an invitation shall be in the post. Oh and my condolences on your root canal, perhaps you should stick to the diet, brother  
\- SH

Grinning to himself and with a rejuvenated bounce in his step Sherlock Holmes trudged through the London streets back to Baker Street, oblivious to the hysterical woman he had just left behind. Today had turned out to be a most marvellous one indeed.


	7. The Kiss

Ringing, endless ringing that reverberated through his head was all Sherlock could hear. Two days since, what he now termed ‘The incident’ had passed, and still that incessant ringing was all he could hear. Blasted woman why did she have to slap him? Once the adrenaline of the whole even had worn off, the marvellous day was not so marvellous anymore, his head hurt. Granted the proclamation was a bit of a shock however, was this not what she had always dreamed of? Ignorant to the ways of women Sherlock had promptly been thrown out of her flat, in front of that oblivious and ignorant woman who called herself mother.

Upon returning to Baker Street Mrs Hudson took one look at the red raw imprint of Molly’s hand on his cheek and laughed, in fact he could still hear the occasional chuckle now. Of course the good landlady was no help, once she got most of the laughter out her system she took a photo and proceeded to forward it to all of her ‘knitting group’ and the station. When prompter for advice she simply shook her head and meandered back into her flat, this left Sherlock Holmes alone and confused.

Taking out his phone Sherlock glanced through his meagre list of contacts, someone must know how to help: Anderson, Lestrade, and Molly absolutely out of the question, Mrs Hudson, Mummy, Mycroft. No help there then, Anderson would probably have a heart attack, Lestrade cannot even successfully maintain his own relationship, Mummy would jump for joy at the prospect of his marriage no matter how fake and Mycroft, well enough said there. There was only one alternative left, Sherlock turned to the internet, the general consensus seemed to suggest that before a proposal there should be a process known as wooing. This required further research, flowers, dates and chocolate seemed to be the usual. Shuddering Sherlock put down his phone and cringed, if all this pathetic soppiness was what it took then embrace it he will, retreating to his mind palace Sherlock formulated a plan.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Headphones on the solitary figure of Molly Hooper weaved in and out of the morgue tables, whilst absentmindedly singing along to livin’ la vida loca by Ricky Martin, occasionally dancing when the song reached the chorus; she made a relatively happy picture for such a dead environment. All of this was noted by the assessing gaze of a certain Mr Holmes, who stepping out of the shadows gave the petite pathologist quite the fright.

Stumbling to turn off her iPod Molly frantically removed her headphones and shot an accusing glare at her unwelcome visitor. “Mr Holmes what can I do for you? Any particularly sensitive corpses you wish me to study, to lie about? Or perhaps there has been a security threat? A…”

“Miss Hooper, please do call me Mycroft after all you do appear to be my forthcoming sister in law, do you not? No there has been no such thing I merely came to inquire about this, shall we say, deli-cate situation you seem to have found yourself in.”

“Oh err, well you see…” Molly stuttered caught off guard “Mr Ho… Mycroft excuse me, this really is none of your business. This is between me and your bloody brother. I mean what right does he have, and involving my mother like that, what sort of man acts like that?”

Politely clearing his throat, Mycroft adjusted his tie, straightening what was already pristine; he was not used to the wrath of a woman berating him. With this the mortuary doors burst open with and bang and the accused figure of his little brother emerged into the room. Two sets of eyes turned at once to glare at him, Sherlock looked taken a back. Molly glared as the weight of the situation was becoming increasingly clearer to her and Mycroft for his stupidity. Excusing himself quietly Mycroft silently slinked out of the room, pleased that Sherlock had provided the necessary distraction needed for him to escape.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Electing to ignore Molly’s deathly glares Sherlock thrust a bouquet of red roses at her face a trium-phant smile upon his smug face, looking down at them and back up at his face Molly cocked one eyebrow, hand on hips and stared.

“Well?”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed in confusion “Do you not like them? This is what women like right? A dozen red roses, for god’s sake I knew I shouldn’t have trusted those blasted websites…”

Interrupting him right there molly shouted “Sherlock shut up! Normally this would work, granted I would normally be thrilled to bits, instead you have just made things 100 times worse. Do you really think giving me roses is going to solve things? Maybe once upon a time but I’m no longer that naive young girl I used to be. I want answers and I want them now, tell me Sherlock, why did you do it? Did you not know that that would be wrong, screw the case?”

Electing to ignore her protests Sherlock opted for plan B; leaning forwards he grasped either side of her head and planted his lips on hers in a messy, greedy kiss. Molly startled at first a little uncertain before closing the gap between their bodies, she sunk into the kiss twining her fingers in his hair. Unknown to both of them a certain detective inspector had just entered the lab, whipping out his phone D.I. Lestrade snapped a quick photo and snuck back out of the morgue, frantically forwarding the picture to all of his colleagues, Anderson would be delighted.

Neither participant was aware of how long it had been, so lost in each other’s presence were they, that when Sherlock broke the kiss, both gasped for breath. Resting the foreheads against one another their eyes met, both wore a look of shock. This was not a part of the plan; something had to have gone wrong so, panicking Sherlock took off, Belstaff flowing around his ankles. Left alone in the, what now seemed dismal, morgue Molly Hooper smiled.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Across London several people took out their phones at a text alert from D.I. Lestrade and smiled, one in particular whooped with joy, Anderson’s O.T.P. had finally shown to be true! Two people were silently reflecting and both wore an unknown small upon their lips, whilst this was only sup-posed to be part of his plan, Sherlock Holmes had stumbled across the unexpected, Molly Hooper was a woman, a woman he had an interest in. In immense confusion he retreated to his mind palace to regroup and reconfigure his plan, if only the blasted feel of her lips would stop racing through his mind.


	8. Repercussions

Marjory Hooper revelled in delight, for not many a grandmother could boast that their future grandson in law was a certain famous detective. When Molly’s mother called with the news, Marjory nearly wept with joy, this was her chance, her time to shine. This would be the way to knock that silly cow Ada Brille off of her throne.

Ada Brille attended the same weekly club as Molly’s grandmother, and it was Ada Brille who held all the ladies in thrall. Ever since her granddaughter married a banker she had been full of it, now is only Marjory could get Mr Holmes to attend her club meetings, the ‘queen’s’ reign would be ended. Marjory was not vindictive, no, just tired of the tall tales and unbelievable stories that came out of that woman’s mouth. Why on earth her fellow ladies were attracted like moths to a flame to the frankly ridiculous stories bemused her. Marjory’s though would not be false, and all she had to do was ring her dear granddaughter, it was time for a visit.

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Molly Hooper was flummoxed. That was some kiss, it took her a while to get home after, for she was to say the least a little distracted. More than once poor molly had to apologise for rounding a corner and colliding with an unsuspecting commuter. Upon reaching home she stuck the kettle on and promptly collapsed into the comfortable armchair in her small sitting room. How on earth everyone seemed to know about said kiss was a mystery worthy of Mr Sherlock Holmes himself, and she wondered if he had also received message upon message similar to hers.

“Congratulations, you look fab together”  
“Aww get you, can’t wait ‘till the wedding!” 

Her personal favourite came courtesy of Mrs Hudson and simply read:  
“Phwoar ;)”

Always one to know how and when to diffuse a situation Mrs Hudson provided some much needed relief. Once more her phone rang out signifying an incoming call; dread sunk over Molly Hooper and an eerie feeling of impending trouble crawled through her bones. Looking at the caller ID Molly knew why. Her grandmother was what was known as a piece of work, manipulative to the core, if anyone knew how to play the little old lady card it was Marjory Hooper, and Molly loved her dearly. Inhaling deeply Molly prepared herself for the expected onslaught, what she hadn’t prepared from were tears.

“Nana? Nana what’s wrong?”

“Oh Molly, Dear, please ignore me, I’m such a foolish old woman.”

“No, Nana what on earth is it?” Molly adamantly protested, concern filtering through her voice.

“Oh, I’m not long for this world now dear, I fear my age has crept up upon me. I do miss you, I don’t suppose, no don’t be so silly…”

“Suppose what?”

“I don’t suppose you have time to come and see your little old grandmother one last time?”

Molly’s heart broke, she sounded so frail “Of course I do Nana, you know I would always make time for you. You don’t have to ask.”

Suddenly chipper and energetic again came the reply “Fabulous, I shall expect you this Thursday then, and bring your fancy new fiancé of yours I simply must meet him! Tata”

The phone clicked as she hung up, sinking further into her cushions, molly clicked her phone off, reaching for a cup of tea she took a sip and sighed with relief. That wasn’t so bad. Then it hit her, once again the master had played her and she fell for it hook line and sinker, now she had to try and get time off work, tell Sherlock and get them both their affairs in order to leave. Wait she had to tell Sherlock. Sherlock was going to spend most likely a week with elderly intolerant people. He was going to kill her, poor Layla and Drew would be devastated, no one would ever find her corpse. Chuckling darkly to herself Molly broke out into full on hysterical laughter, this was a disaster.

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Mycroft Holmes smiled to himself, Anthea had just delivered the most delicious news, Sherlock’s fiancé had become quite the hit. The duke of Cosworth’s daughter most certainly knew of their impending nuptials now, and she must be furious. A small, and only small, part of Mycroft was gleeful that it would once again be the name of Holmes to make such an impact in society, and yet he had to do nothing, simply wonderful.

Dictating to his minor secretary Mycroft composed a message to his younger brother (it wouldn’t do to do it himself, and his tooth rather hurt after that specific appointment):  
“Well done brother, we are all very proud, do be kind to the elderly, they are wiser than even you might think.”

If Sherlock was confused to receive such he did not let on, merely scoffing at such a message he returned to his faithful violin, a new composition was in order. For this way alone could he reflect on the colossal misjudgement of earlier that day.


	9. The WI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock encounters Marjory Hooper

Why was it so cold? It was as though the artic itself had switched with London. Hot chocolate and fuzzy sock sales had rocketed as conglomerates and small businesses capitalised on the ill prepared masses. Small localised street cafés were busier than ever with the relatively peaceful humdrum of normality shattered, the descent into Christmas chaos imminent. Abnormally for England the probability of a white Christmas was genuinely very possible, and thus the atmosphere was charged with the electricity of excitement. Even the utmost British and stoic of individuals found themselves carried away by the unstoppable tidal wave of enthusiasm that tore through the city. All bar one. Make that two actually, one defining moniker connected the two the name of Holmes.

Whilst one successfully escaped the vast majority of the Christmas trappings, of course except for the delights of the seasonal grub, the other well he was not so lucky. Sherlock was not what one would describe as a social butterfly at the best of times, more of a selective hermit, choosing to remain solitary and yet able to mix if absolutely required. This ‘Christmas’ was to be no fun at all, maybe even the worst in living memory, well for Sherlock Holmes that is anyway.

Blackmail and false advertisement lured Sherlock to accompany Molly Hooper on a trip to visit her ‘frail and elderly grandmother’, he couldn’t help but feel this was somewhat karmic and Molly might’ve been enjoying the awkward experience all too much. If there was one thing Sherlock failed to acclimatise with ease to it was elderly people. They had lived too long and seen too much to care for social necessities, instead favouring a brutal and honest approach, somewhat like Sherlock himself, but this made them unpredictable. Granted Molly had not totally lied to him, there would in fact be many people to draw deductions about, however Sherlock would need all his wits about him to survive the onslaught of unfortunate attention it would be so exhausting. Somehow he found himself driving the hire car down small twisty lanes and gritting his teeth at Molly’s tuneless singing along to whatever drivel the radio station were pumping out now.  
“Sherlock turn off here, on the left.”

Doing as instructed he followed the drive down past a sign which proudly announced he was approaching the finest WI in the country. Pulling up and parking in one of the many available allocated spots, Sherlock inhaled a deep breath and turned to inquire why he was here again, but Molly had already raced away into the open arms of the hoard of noisy woman clutching her and exclaiming, how much she had grown. Hell. Tempted to run away now Sherlock braced himself and locked the car walking as though he was headed to the noose, slowly towards the pack of hungry wolves whom all eagerly turned like wolves to the slaughter. The eerie notion of a lamb did not escape him and for the first time he could empathise with that pathetic creature. 

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on whose perspective you looked from Molly was not socially inept and in fact was in quite high spirits about the whole affair. Thick skinned was the phrase that came to mind, after many thoughtless and inexplicably rude comments thrown at her by Sherlock a gaggle of old ladies was nothing. Wading through the unstoppable throng, she eventually met the very woman she had come here to see.  
“Hello Nana.”

Sherlock meanwhile was already exasperated, his quota for unnecessary socialisation was full for the year, and yet there was undoubtedly more to come. Finally catching up with the svelte and nimble Molly, he caught the tail end of a conversation.  
“… and this Nana is Sherlock Holmes, my fiancé!”  
Eyes roamed each other’s figures, opinions were formed, and truths outed. In that split second Sherlock understood what it felt like on the receiving end of an unwelcome deduction. Finally he had met his match.

“Welcome to the family my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WI = The Women's Institute plays a unique role in providing women with educational opportunities and the chance to build new skills, to take part in a wide variety of activities and to campaign on issues that matter to them and their communities.   
> Definition from- https://www.thewi.org.uk/about-the-wi#sthash.MMsqZ4tI.dpuf


	10. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Marjory Hooper have a little chat.

Bewildered and somewhat awed Molly went through the monotonous motion of tea making, a soothing process that never failed to clear her thoughts. For once it seemed even this would not work. If one were so inclined to stick their head through the archway they would discover the unlikely scenario that was Sherlock Holmes sitting surrounded by elderly women enraptured with his stories of mystery and murder. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all, he managed to charm everyone he met, and the Holmes charm was alluring in its power. A charm that did not seem to lie so naturally with his elder brother Mycroft, perhaps it was more a Sherlock thing than a Holmes thing in the end. Shaking her head Molly turned to locate the sugar from its hiding place and froze. 

Staring silently Marjory Hooper assessed her granddaughter, a calculating look that wouldn’t seem amiss on the face of the man in the next room. She looked changed, and not just physically of course it had been some months since they had last seen one another so physical change wouldn’t be amiss but Molly Hooper was different.   
“You are in love with him, aren’t you?”  
A ruckus occurred in the next room, as Sherlock valiantly attempted to extract himself from the throng of women, god he needed a cigarette. Drawing all and any politeness he genuinely possessed, for the elderly were not to be underestimated in their wrath about manners something Sherlock learnt the hard way in childhood, he made his excused and sought out Molly. Who seemed to be in some kind of Mexican standoff with her grandmother? Neither said a word.  
Now this was entertaining. A chance to gather some data, for interfamilial reactions was not something common in Sherlock’s life, sure there was Mycroft, but well Mycroft was never normal and involvement with his parents was only on an absolute last resort basis. Steeling his fingers under his chin Sherlock estimated how long the silence would last. A further minute and 30 seconds it turns out. Both turned to look at him simultaneously and Sherlock was eerily reminded of a horror film he had been made to endure one Christmas. Molly blinked, Marjory smirked, and Sherlock fled.

Never again would he venture forth to a place such as this, deductions be dammed. Hidden away outside where there was no people and finally alone he lit a cigarette and revelled in the peace and quiet, it was not to last. Sliding the patio doors open Marjory slipped out and sought out Sherlock. Perching herself on the step next to him she seemed at first content to sit in silence. Holding out her hand she fixed him with a glare. Sherlock reluctantly passed over the cigarette and she dropped and crushed it under her shoe.   
“Those things will kill you, you know.”  
Sherlock shrunk back a feeling of unwelcome chastisement not present since childhood swept over him.

“I must admit I was surprised; I never took molly for being such a masochist, but now see maybe she is not so after all.” 

Taken aback Sherlock must have looked uncertain for she elaborated:   
“A man who is willing to put up will a room full of bored catty old women is a man in love. Granted Mr Holmes you may have hidden it from her but you have failed to hide from me.”  
“I, don’t…”

“Please don’t insult my intelligence I may be old but I’m not blind. You remind me of my late husband, perhaps that is why she is so drawn to you, he was smart, maybe not as smart as you, but he struggled to show his emotions, it doesn’t mean Mr Holmes that they weren’t there.”  
With that she rose, stretched her back and meandered back inside.   
Molly was exasperated it had been a long afternoon; it was surely time to go. Making her goodbyes she noticed Sherlock sneak back in the room and so began to meander in his general direction, conveniently that of the door, as she made her escape. Sherlock grasped her hand waved goodbye and they fled hand in hand to the car. Molly stopped turned and waved to the sole figure of her grandmother who was on the steps, curiously she gave a meaningful nod to Sherlock too which he returned, and left molly pondering when they had talked without her noticing this afternoon. Both seemed to realise they were still holding hands at the same time and jerked apart. Sherlock moved to the driver’s side and climbed in the seat. A quick few taps on the sat nav and they were off, back home, back to good ol’ London.

“Sherlock what are we doing?”  
“Returning to London, I thought that fairly obvious…”  
“No, I mean about this, about us?”  
“Molly we are getting married, there’s no escaping it now both your mother and mine have been told, your grandmother and there was even an announcement in the paper so it must be true.”  
“Yes, I know that but Sherlock surely we could just explain…?”  
“You really want to shatter the dreams of and elderly lady and your excited mother who believes all her Christmases have come at once and is shopping for wedding attire as we speak?”

“You bastard, you win fine, I will marry you. However, I no longer have a ring.”  
Sherlock nodded to the central console where a ring box sat. Molly opened it and there sat her ruby, emerald and diamond ring.   
“I had it resized it should fit perfectly now.”

It did. “Sherlock why go to so much trouble for a case?” He never answered, and the ring sat perched upon her finger all the way back to London.


End file.
